


Feed the Fire Raging Inside

by Minxchester (ComeAlongPond14)



Series: Teacups & Time [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Sex, Emotions, First Time, M/M, Mental Instability, Mind Games, Porn, Real Life, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Unf, lol sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 23:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13844829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComeAlongPond14/pseuds/Minxchester
Summary: "All that he cared about in that moment was the culmination of years of need, rage, lust, trust, and pure animal magnetism.'Title from "Immortalized" by Disturbed.





	Feed the Fire Raging Inside

**Author's Note:**

> Tired brains aren't great for hard work.

_ “Hannibal? _

_ I forgive you _ .”

Will stood still in the dark crossroads of the tombs, feeling the barest breath of air flowing over his skin that was coming and going from all directions, and he waited. One small instinct whispered that he could move, walk away, leave his words hovering for Hannibal to make of what he would. He did not have to stay here; he could force the older man to come to him, in turn. Hannibal did owe him that much.

But Will had waited too long, and he was not going now.

He sensed Hannibal’s proximity before he saw or heard him; the whisper of the air changed, and the darkness around him condensed. Behind him, the soft sound of inhalation brought Will crashing back through time, far from the dark tombs beneath the chapel and into another world, an office large and cool, the lamplight soft and the man himself fondly deriding Will’s annually gifted aftershave.

“I forgive you,” he repeated, not turning around. His shoulders remained perfectly straight, the ache deepening in his stomach as the man who wounded him stood feet away in the shadows. 

It was supposed to be a reunion. He had intended it to be such; but the lingering presence of Inspector Pazzi was heavier on the air between them than the longing, or the scent of Will’s skin. It poisoned the space, ruined the need that was sparking back into life in his veins, and Will knew that the moment was too far spoiled to be redeemed.

“Next time,” he breathed out, and the next breath that Hannibal emitted was like an affirmation even in its shapelessness. There was no sound, no rush of air or crunch of step on the stone floor, but Will knew that between one heartbeat and the next, Hannibal had left again.

* * *

As it turned out, of course, the next time was simultaneously the intended miracle--they found one another again, he was able to look Hannibal directly in the eyes for the first time in what felt like forever--and yet, it was also an utter failure.

In the same way that Will had dreamed of atoning for his own hesitation, and running away with both Hannibal and a very-much-alive Abigail, only to awaken in the hospital in pieces...so he walked through the courtyard at the older man’s side, something tentative and hopeful blooming even as his fingers curled protectively, preemptively, warily around the switchblade in his pocket. And just the same, it was snatched from him--from them--this time by Chiyoh.

He should have known the moment that he flew over the back railing of that train that she did not intend to humor their romance, even if Hannibal himself were to reprimand her for her intervention.

At least this time, he didn’t wake up alone in a hospital room, left behind and left heartbroken in the silence left behind by Hannibal’s music. But perhaps, waking up in a deep stupor of drugged sluggishness and regret, Hannibal’s eyes glinting with the hunger that he had never lost for the younger man and the saw buzzing to life in his hands...Will would have preferred abandonment once more.

* * *

_ Promise me you’ll save him. _

_ I promise. _

Blood had never been either an enemy or a friend, but bound and trapped at Muskrat Farm, Will thirsted for it like he had never experienced in his life. His skin had ached beneath the layer of his own blood as he awoke again, the drugs fading from his system, anger at Hannibal for his pettiness melting quickly into rage toward Mason Verger. Toward everyone who continually, constantly, contemptuously came between them, tormenting them, drawing out his agony and his longing.

He honestly hadn’t been sure if Hannibal would save him this time; partly because of their repeatedly disastrous courtship thus far, and partly because he truly didn’t know if Alana would find it in her heart to put the inevitable into motion before it was too late.

Will should have trusted her more. She may have been calculating, counting down until she and Hannibal could finally have their own reckoning, but she was not going to allow Hannibal’s nature, or his fate, to hinder her commitment to seeing Will survive him.

A shame, really, that she was so good and beautiful to him, when Will had no intention of surviving at all.

Pain from Cordell’s first cut into the side of his face allowed Will the mercy of fainting, but he was not unconscious when the freezing cold air swept over his skin. He remained limp, keeping his eyes closed and his mouth slack, his body loose and pliant in the strong arms that held him. The trek back home was long, and he was chilled by more than wind when he heard the smart cracks of Chiyoh firing at their would-be pursuers--but still Will didn’t move. 

It was strange, finding Hannibal’s hold familiar, when he had only known it before in a dream.

When Will woke again, his head was finally clear. There was no pain anymore, and he knew without lifting his hand to check that his forehead was re-bandaged, and the slice down his cheek had been tended to as well.

“Thank you,” Will said quietly, slowly drawing himself upright until he could sit back against the stacks of pillows that Hannibal had placed behind him. They were cool, tangible even through the flannel of his shirt, and they smelled both the same as when he had last been here, and also not. The scent of his dogs still lingered on the fabric, but there was something clean and mint-like, as well. Alana had come by, as she had promised.

He turned his face and found Hannibal sitting in the armchair, mere feet away from him. The resignation and weariness in his eyes and his posture was all the information that Will needed, but he did not want to address that part yet. They were back, back in Wolf Trap, Virginia, and there was only one outcome for Dr. Lecter, here.

But it did not have to happen, yet.

_ “Do we talk about teacups and time, and the rules of disorder?” _

_ “The teacup’s broken. It’s never going to gather itself back together again.” _

He remembered his dream, and the moment when he hadn’t known who had moved first; it was the same now, the way that Hannibal was watching him. Seeking permission, or invitation, unsure if his gifts of seduction were well-received, or scorned once more.

Will swallowed, then held out one hand; his eyes settled on Hannibal’s face unwaveringly.  _ Yes _ , his gaze said,  _ this time yes _ .

Hannibal stood and came to him fluidly, and as he leaned forward, Will’s outstretched hand found his face, cradling it the same way that he had been able to in his dream-state in Palermo. But this time it was more real than any other moment in Will’s entire life, and the heat of the skin beneath his own seared up his arm, into his chest, and pierced through Will’s fast-beating heart like a blade.

“Just this, now,” he breathed out, and Hannibal’s head tilted, his eyes staying locked on Will’s. “Just us. Nothing else.”

He wondered if this was how unfaithful spouses felt, when they closeted themselves away into a corner with their would-be lovers, knowing that their husband or wife would be home within a few hours. Sneaking a burst of forbidden pleasure, something naughty and illicit and beyond wrong--but something that they could not resist, any more than a junkie hounding after their next hit.

When Hannibal kissed him now, Will’s entire universe imploded into thousands of rough-edged ceramic bits, billions of teacups that were never completely put together in the first place. He was battered and injured, and exertion was a poor choice so soon after their escape from the Verger estate, but Will was starving for every touch and breath.

His hands shoved at Hannibal’s coat, pushing the heavy fabric away, and Hannibal straightened enough to assist him in its removal. It was a shock to see the man barely glance back at the garment as he pitched it aside--he was normally so damn precise and elegant with his clothing--but Will couldn’t have cared less. He was far too mesmerized by the sight of Hannibal’s beautiful, talented, deft fingers sliding down his shirt-front, the small ivory dots sliding through their slits in the silk until it, too, was discarded.

Will leaned back, pressing into his stack of pillows, and he let his eyes roam over Hannibal’s bare skin. His dream had not misled him, and Will wracked his brain for some memory of how and when he had seen the man so exposed; how could he know, so vividly and accurately, what Hannibal’s body was like?

But it didn’t matter. For whatever reason his burning imagination believed that it was recognizing, not discovering, Will didn’t care. It was his, now, and he would devour it as it had been intended for him to.

The springs of his sad old bed creaked mournfully as Hannibal slid onto the mattress on one knee, and Will let his legs slide apart, giving the other man space to settle there. The intimacy of it was delicious, headier than anything they had shared thus far, and Will sank back even deeper, feeling more like some demigod reclining in royal cushions than the man that he was, succumbing like an acolyte to the lust of his dark deity. 

“I fear I may break you,” Hannibal breathed against his mouth, and there was soft laughter underlying his words. “You will tell me if the pain returns.” It was stated, a command--not a request. Will found that it was a thousand times more arousing that way.

“I will,” he affirmed. “But I’m fine. I assume you gave me something strong. I need this, Hannibal, and we haven’t time to waste on you being too careful with me.”

The older man tilted his head, seemingly sifting through the words and then finally smiling faintly. “I suppose you are right. I did not want to risk you choking, so I opted for injection--but I was careful with the dose of morphine. You should not experience reduced sensations.”

It was Will’s turn to smirk. “What sensations will I get to test that theory on, Dr. Lecter?” As he had hoped, that made Hannibal’s eyes darken--he had never seemed entirely able to resist when Will teased him with respect for his intellect or status--and Will sat up a little higher, his smile widening as he felt no pain or stings from his movements. “I’m fine, Hannibal. Now come the fuck back here.”

That was apparently sufficient for Hannibal, if the intensity of the kiss that he planted on Will’s lips was anything to judge by.

The need and desperation of the first kiss returned, and Will slid his hands up the older man’s arms, tugging him closer as he slumped slowly back into the bed. It was as if he could not get enough of the heat of Hannibal’s skin, something awakening inside of himself that would not be satisfied, now that he had had a true taste, until he had gotten what he needed from the man who had tortured and possessed his mind for so long.

Hannibal’s fingers were skating down his body, as well, and Will broke their kiss with a gasp when he felt the man working the button of his pants open. He looked down, staring at the shadowy space between them, watching in awe as those dexterous hands--hands that he had seen do so many things, destructive and creative--slowly slid down the zipper. Once that was finished, it took minimal work to have Will naked from the waist down.

He was bare beneath, having not been given any underwear at Muskrat Farm, and Will bit his bottom lip hard enough to feel the pain of it as Hannibal’s work released his cock. He was fully hard already, swollen and flushed and glistening with pre-come at the slit, and even before Hannibal’s fingers slid around the shaft, teasing around the glans, Will was panting. 

Hannibal’s eyes leapt up to his face as he caressed around the head, seemingly memorizing the younger man’s reactions, and Will huffed. “Don’t get caught up,” he growled, reveling in the way that Hannibal’s eyes blazed at the rasp in his voice. “You’re still overdressed.”

“You’re wearing more than I am,” Hannibal fired back, smiling genuinely, but he humored Will, sitting back and slowly undoing his own pants. Will dropped one hand to his erection, savoring the way that the sight of that made Hannibal’s glorious fingers stutter in their actions, and he lazily stroked himself with pre-come for lubricant as he observed.

“You are a tease, Will,” Hannibal breathed, and Will grinned smugly as the older man slid slowly back off of the bed, slipping his pants off as well. He stood back up, utterly naked, and now it was Will’s turn to become lost in enjoyment of the visual. He sat up, and without being asked Hannibal obligingly stepped forward, moving until his legs were pressed against the side of the bed. Will raised both hands, and then paused, swallowing, his eyes cutting upward.

Hannibal’s eyes softened. His hand extended, taking Will’s gently in his own, and drew it forward until Will’s fingertips touched the hardened line of his left hip bone, inches above his groin. “Don’t be afraid to take the moment, Will,” Hannibal murmured. “We have waited too long--as you said, there’s no time for being too careful.”

The fog lifted, and Will nodded. He scooted forward to be closer, lifting both hands and running his fingers down until he could press his palms to Hannibal’s thighs, feeling the muscles flex and tighten. Then he leaned forward, smiling slightly as Hannibal swayed in to meet him--it seemed that they were mutually insatiable for this first contact--and Will started by pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his cock. 

He didn’t let Hannibal’s immediate hiss of breath distract him, tipping his face the other way in order to angle up a little, and close his mouth properly over the head of the older man’s cock.

Before he had met this man, Will would never have said that he had an interest in men beyond some light collegiate experimentation. He was well beyond that, older now, more tired of anything to do with humans and intimacy...but that did not mean he had no sexual appetite. After all, had she not feared him--wisely--Alana would have certainly gotten more than kisses out of him.

But Hannibal....Hannibal induced an entirely different kind of hunger in him. It was not as carnivorous or homicidal as how he supposed the older man felt towards him, but it certainly was as all-consuming.

Sucking a dick was not novel for him, though it had been several years. Decades, more like.

Still, it had the bicycle-like quality of feeling oddly natural as he bowed and bobbed his head, working to take more inches of Hannibal’s cock until it was nearly breaching his throat. Even that only slowed him enough to try and take it more slowly, because he absolutely did not intend to choke and flail in such a pivotal moment. With careful breathing and maneuvering, Will finally managed it, and he grunted softly in pleasure as Hannibal’s cockhead slowly slid into the tight squeeze of his throat.

The noise that Hannibal made was broken and fragile, nothing like his usual calm and collected vocalizations, and Will would have grinned in delight at his success if his lips hadn’t been very much otherwise occupied. It was a satisfaction like no other to render such a dark, potent creature speechless.

Hannibal’s fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently at the unruly curls. Only then did Will register that somewhere between Italy and here, his hair had been washed for him, because it was not tacky with blood to limit Hannibal’s petting--and he lifted his eyes, curious.

The older man was gazing at him with something akin to wonder, and pride, and Will slid slowly back until the spit-slick shaft of Hannibal’s cock slipped free from his lips with a wet little pop. Hannibal’s hand curved beneath his chin, and his thumb slid along the seam of the younger man’s mouth, feeling the soft swelling from his efforts.

“So beautiful,” Hannibal murmured, and Will blushed predictably, puckering his lips to capture the tip of his thumb, sucking lightly at it. “Whatever shall I do with you?”

Letting Hannibal’s thumb slide away again, Will smirked. “I think that you should continue touch me, for starters.” He slid his fingers around Hannibal’s wrists, drawing him in, and he was given the kiss that he was hunting after. “I also think that if we’re going to progress beyond nudity and kisses, it may be wiser for you to be the one lying here.” When Hannibal raised his eyebrows in question, Will chuckled. “You were by far more injured than I was--and I won’t lie, I always rather imagined I’d be on top when this happened.”

That made Hannibal smirk, his eyes glinting with renewed hunger. “And for a moment I feared you were insinuating weakness from age.” He licked his lips, and Will watched the flicker of pink muscle, his breath quickening. “You imagined this, Will? Tell me.”

He rolled his eyes, rolling and shimmying until he could sit up on his knees, and Hannibal moved with him, kneeling on the bed to remain level with him. “You know I have. You have, too."

“Of course.” Hannibal looked infinitely pleased with himself. “But to be fair, I have longed for this nearly from the day that I met you. Even if I feared that it would never come to pass.”

Will chuckled quietly, angling in to nose lightly along Hannibal’s jawline, savoring the way that it made the older man’s breath hitch, his head tilting up to offer more skin to Will’s lips. The trust in that single small gesture was almost more than Will could fathom; he knew what it meant for Hannibal to bare his own throat, even if the intimacy of it was more potent to the two of them than it would ever be to anyone else. Even if it was only to Will, who after tonight would never find the strength to act on his darkest, blood-thirstiest bursts of anger towards Hannibal.

He had no doubt that he would still find himself constantly outraged at the man; it would simply remain an intrinsic element of their story.

“Did my aftershave actually offend you?” he asked suddenly, curious and amused. “You used to scent me. I don’t think my cologne had anything to do with that.”

Hannibal made a noise, a soft near-laugh, nodding in acquiescence. “It is a very unfortunate scent, and I would like to know who sends it to you each Christmas--”

“No, you’re not going to kill someone for having a bad sense of good annual gift-giving. That isn’t rude, it’s well-intentioned and sweet. And I did  _ wear _ the stuff, willingly.”

“--but yes,” Hannibal continued, rolling his eyes in turn. “I have always wanted to maintain a...complete sensory awareness of you. I sometimes feared that I might lose you at any moment--tragedy, discovery. I even feared that you might one day forbid me from further pursuing you. I needed to always have the freshest memory of you.”

“That was the first time,” Will breathed, drawing back to meet Hannibal’s gaze, his eyes twinkling. “You mocked my aftershave, and I thought...I thought,  _ I want him to come closer. Smell past it. Smell  _ me.”

It was Hannibal’s turn to dip his face down and forward, until his nose was pressed against the point where Will’s pulse was hammering, and he inhaled as requested, long and deep. “Some unfortunate porcine undertones,” he teased, and Will snorted. “But overwhelmingly...I only smell you. Clean, wood-like...you forever remind me of the forests and streams you so love.” He pressed a single kiss to the cord of Will’s neck, and the younger man did not miss the graze of tongue, the brief tasting of his sweat and arousal.

“And the next time?” 

Will smiled, twisting and pushing, and Hannibal obediently rolled until he could land with a soft grunt on the pillows, where Will had been lying. “Unless you want me to lose interest in acting on these fantasies I’m going to describe, you’d best keep working while I tell you,” he whispered, straddling Hannibal in a far smoother motion than he would have believed himself capable of, after the events of the past days.

The older man’s eyes swept over him, and his expression shifted, something predatory and pleased flickering over his face. “So suddenly assertive,” he purred, running his hands up Will’s bare thighs, until his fingers disappeared under the hem of his still-buttoned flannel. “Ever full of surprises, my William.”

Will snorted at the use of his full name, leaning over and digging into the drawer of his bedside table until he returned with the tube of medical-grade lubricant. “Am I _William_ when I get bossy, Dr. Lecter?”

“Am I  _ Dr. Lecter _ when you intend to have your wicked way with me?” he retorted, and when Will merely grinned and beckoned smugly, Hannibal offered his hand to allow the lube to be poured onto his fingers. “I think I prefer the way your tongue wraps around my first name, truth be told.”

“I think you like how my tongue wraps around anything,” Will shot back, and he reveled in the way that that made Hannibal’s eyes blaze. With one hand he accepted the lube, slowly rubbing it between his fingers to warm it, while the other rose until Hannibal could touch his lips. Will accepted without question, sucking both his index and middle fingers into his mouth, holding Hannibal’s gaze with singular intensity as he capped the bottle and cast it aside again.

“Wicked boy, indeed,” Hannibal breathed, and when he reached his lube-slick hand back, Will shifted up onto his knees at once, moaning sweetly around the digits in his mouth as Hannibal’s fingers slid smoothly up the seam of his ass, and circled his entrance. “Have you done this before, Will?”

He nodded, and Hannibal withdrew his fingers, curling them loosely around Will’s throat as the younger man replied. “I haven’t had a lover in...a very long time,” Will whispered, and then stopped, gasping and arching gracefully as the first fingertip began to press inside. He grabbed at Hannibal’s arm, not urging more or less pressure, merely stabilizing himself. His eyes fluttered closed in bliss, and Hannibal pushed harder, inhaling raggedly as he felt his finger slide inside of Will to the first knuckle.

“But I...scattered my experiences, between men and women,” Will continued, his voice breathier, a touch higher. “I never saw any cause to be...selective. Or preferential.”

Hannibal’s finger slid in deeper, and Will whimpered softly, looking back down at him and blinking slowly. “My tastes have...definitely become more specific.” He nearly smiled, something bemused and scornful edging into his eyes. “I...I was lost from the moment...you said that I would someday find you interesting. Fuck,” he added, breaking off into a moan as Hannibal began working his middle finger in, as well.

The older man’s eyes looked almost black in the shadows of the house as he stared up at Will, attention split between working him open slowly but diligently, and running his other hand gently over Will’s throat and jaw. “That is the goal, yes. Though I’m not entirely certain as to who will truly be fucking whom.”

Will snorted, ducking his chin and biting fondly at the hand caressing him. He groaned as two fingers slid fully inside in response, rocking his hips to ride them. “To hear the word  _ fuck _ from you is...different.” He achieved his goal with his undulating, and a cry tore from his throat, distracted from whatever he had been planning to say as Hannibal’s fingertip rubbed over his prostate. “Oh, Jesus, Hannibal, yes. Please. There.”

The fingers inside him twisted, repeating the movement that had pleasured him and further loosening his entrance. “I’ve dreamed of seeing you like this, Will.”

“I know.” He dropped forward, still bucking lazily to fuck himself on the penetrating digits, and mouthed unsteadily at the side of Hannibal’s throat, teeth digging in. “I...want to...mark you.”

Hannibal raised the hand that had been at Will’s throat, carding his fingers into his hair once more and tugging, guiding his head forward, pressing Will’s mouth against the skin just above his clavicle. He could taste the muscles flexing beneath the skin. 

“Do it.” Hannibal’s voice was low, barely a murmur, and Will  _ felt _ it vibrate through his flesh. “I bear your marks inside, Will--only fitting that you add to them externally.”

Will did not hesitate, biting down and sucking roughly, savoring the rasp of Hannibal’s breath as he began his marking, breaking the blood vessels and bruising the flesh. He let his mouth roam sideways, continuing to pepper hickeys along the sharply defined line of Hannibal’s collarbone. Hannibal remained remarkably calm, managing to continue working Will’s ass open even as he growled approvingly, pulling lightly at Will’s hair. “You wish to cover all of me, Will?” Another dexterous twist of his fingers, striking the prostate perfectly, and Will cursed, losing track of what he had been doing as he felt the third finger begin rubbing at his rim. “No objections from me, of course.”

One last bite, and Will sat up, examining his handiwork and then shrugging. “I need to be sure I’m making my point,” he breathed, then dropped forward again, focusing on the other side of Hannibal’s chest. “Need to make sure...that these won’t fade for a good, long time."

Hannibal’s ring finger eased inside, and Will shuddered violently, his teeth stuttering against the bone. “Oh,” he breathed. “I forgot...I was supposed to be telling you...what I’ve imagined you doing to me.”

“I suspect that that would include a wide range of things, and not all of them nearly as pleasurable as our current activities,” Hannibal said snidely, though there was the faintest trace of remorse underlying the words. “But yes, I do wish to hear...what you envisioned for us.”

Will turned his face, capturing the older man’s mouth in a rough kiss, then sat up slowly. He braced his hands firmly on Hannibal’s bare chest, relishing the heat and shifting of the body beneath his palms. Settling back, he felt Hannibal’s fingers bottom out inside of him, and Will moaned happily. “Please tell me that you’re going to be able to fuck me, soon.”

When Hannibal nodded slowly, his expression turning darker, hunger rising, Will grinned. He knew he must look savage, but judging from the mirroring look in the older man’s eyes, that was not off-putting in the slightest.

“Do you remember...Georgia?” he asked softly, flexing his legs slowly in order to begin riding Hannibal’s fingers, rising slowly up and down. “Georgia Madchen...” When Hannibal nodded again, looking mildly perplexed at the mention, Will chuckled. “I came...to your office to discuss it. I was...weary.”

Recognition sparked into the beautiful brown eyes staring up at him. “You were wearing blue, and a dark vest. Your sleeves were rolled to the elbows...I always enjoyed when you would bare your forearms.”

Will huffed a laugh, sinking back onto his fingers and stilling for a moment, unbuttoning the sleeves of his flannel and beginning to roll them, and Hannibal laughed as well. “Beautiful creature,” he breathed. “So willing to please me in even trivial things.”

“Always.” Will finished, and he dropped his hands back to Hannibal’s chest, resuming his slow movements.

“You rested against the library ladder,” Hannibal continued, his small finger joining the fun. Will glanced between their bodies at the other man’s cock, licking his lips as he calculated its girth, and he continued rolling and writhing, accepting the need for just a little more preparation. “You looked...magnificent.” Will reached out and grabbed the lube, and with surprising agility he reached behind himself, pouring more into his own ass crack. Hannibal hummed appreciatively, fllowing it to slide inside of Will along with his fingers.

“You looked as if you would have slid to your knees for me that instant, had I asked,” he whispered, and Will nodded, tossing the lube aside again. 

“If you’d asked,” he echoed. “I might have. I wanted you...to take my mind off of things. I wanted you to pin me to that ladder, and make me...feel you.”

Hannibal’s other hand went back to his throat, resuming his former near-chokehold. “Someday, Will, we will have the time that we deserve. Someday, I will give you...every single thing that you have ever imagined me doing to you, body and mind.”

“Body, mind, and soul,” Will corrected him, and he abruptly sat up, Hannibal’s fingers slipping free from his body with a slick sound. “You own me, Hannibal, don’t play modest now. You had me from the moment you laid eyes on me, and if we ever have that time...if we find that nirvana, then I demand...to be consumed.”

Hannibal moved to sit up, and Will flowed with him, letting the older man reach around behind him in order to align the head of his cock with Will’s hole. This kiss was claiming and sure, a dance of tongues and teeth that made him nearly melt into Hannibal’s hold before he felt the first inch of the man’s cock as it breached him.

“Oh,  _ God _ ,” he groaned, straightening up quickly in order to speed up the process. He sank down swiftly, bottoming out easily, and then stilled.

The quiet stretched out for a long moment, and neither man seemed to be breathing. Then Hannibal broke the stillness. “Will?”

“‘M fine,” he whispered. “I’ve imagined this moment--dreamed about it--repeatedly, since I’ve met you. I sat in prison alternating between picturing the moment I could kill you myself, or the moment...that I could finally feel this.” He looked down, sliding back up, watching Hannibal’s cock as it came back into view, gleaming with lube, and then disappeared back into his body as he slid back down.

“Is it everything that you hoped it would be?” Hannibal asked softly, sinking back into the bed, and Will licked his lips.

“Better,” he replied. “Now stop pretending to be sweet, and _fuck_ _me_.”

As if his command once more unlocked that other, deeper side of Hannibal, the switch was thrown, and the older man seized him. Will gasped as the older man’s fingers moved to his waist and clamped down, and he  _ felt _ the way that Hannibal’s cock shifted inside of him as the man planted his feet solidly on the mattress, and began to thrust.

The noises that began tumbling from Will’s lips were inhuman, senseless, nearly meaningless beyond simply being  _ pleasure _ . With Hannibal’s hands supporting him as they were, Will didn’t need to balance himself too well; he merely let the ride carry him away. He didn’t need to think or analyze, he didn’t let himself try to listen for unfamiliar sounds outside of his house; he didn’t even worry himself about the dogs on the other side of the room.

All that he cared about in that moment was the culmination of years of need, rage, lust, trust, and pure animal magnetism.

“Will.” He dropped his head, eyes re-opening to settle on Hannibal’s, and his breath caught at the expression on the doctor’s face. “Be present with me. Let me in.”

Will leaned over, making sure to keep his ass snugly against Hannibal’s thighs--he was not losing an inch of the cock inside of him--and kissed the older man’s lips lightly. “You are in,” he pointed out, knowing his grin was a bit shit-eating, and Hannibal snorted obligingly at the bad joke. “I’m right here, Hannibal. I’m with you.”

He felt the shiver that trembled through Hannibal’s entire body at the words, and Will straightened back up, bracing his hands on Hannibal’s thighs behind his ass. “Stay still,” he instructed, and Hannibal raised his eyebrows. “You had your time. Now I get to fuck  _ you _ .”

Without waiting for Hannibal to respond--after all, what could he say other than  _ yes _ , and Will knew that that was the answer already--Will planted his hands firmly on Hannibal’s chest, and he began to move. He could feel Hannibal’s heart pounding beneath his skin; and as vividly as any of the visions that Will had ever experienced at a crime scene, he could picture the organ through the layers of flesh, muscles, sinew, and blood. He could  _ see _ it hammering, beating wildly like one of the delicate little Ortolan songbirds that they had devoured whole together, on a night that felt like forever ago.

It did not take long for Hannibal to begin shuddering harder, his eyes fluttering as his rising orgasm threatened to overwhelm even his ironclad self-control. “Will,” he breathed, and there was no other way to describe the sound of the whisper other than  _ prayer _ . “Will, I am--going to--”

“Do it,” Will growled, curving his fingers to let his blunt nails drag along Hannibal’s chest, watching the faint, temporary lines that were left behind. “Come for me, Hannibal, come inside of me.” As he had expected, his wording was vital; Hannibal’s entire body seemed to spasm with intensified pleasure. “I’ll never be without you, after this.”

Will had wondered over and over, every time he had ever daydreamed or night dreamed or longed for this while awake, what Hannibal might look like in the midst of a climax. He had seen pleasure in the man’s face before, had seen approval and smugness and satisfaction; he had even come to recognize arousal in Hannibal’s features, always aimed at him in moments that he would not have said he felt particularly attractive.

But the truest of carnal pleasure,  _ la petite mort  _ itself...he had never been able to perfect what that might look like. And no amount of anticipation or longing could have prepared him for it.

Hannibal gave a cry that sounded like a ghosting echo of Will’s name, arching up off of the bed slightly, and Will stopped his rough riding in order to  _ feel _ the moment of release. Heat burst inside of him, and Will groaned as he felt the pulsing of Hannibal’s cock, spilling his seed inside of the younger man.

He reached for his own cock, but Hannibal’s hand batted his away, and his fingers curved around Will with the same delicacy and gentility as before. Will leaned back, grasping Hannibal’s thighs behind himself, and grinned down at the older man. “Take me apart, Dr. Lecter.”

Blue eyes blazed into dark brown, and the hand on his dick tightened, squeezing on the upstrokes as he began jerking Will off swiftly. Coupled with the slick heat of the older man’s come inside of him, Will felt as if every drop of his blood was being sparked into living fire inside his veins. The noise that left his throat was a roar. His head fell back, his lungs feeling suddenly as if there was not enough air in the room for him to breathe, and Will hit his peak with a broken shout of Hannibal’s name that tapered off into a breathless moan, a reverent prayer of adoration to his cruel deity.

As the residual tingles of orgasm slowly bled back out of his nerves, Will collapsed, slumping onto Hannibal’s chest with a weary groan. He could feel Hannibal’s hands on him, caressing and stroking his back and hips and thighs, but his skin was too inflamed to register any real stimulation beyond the raw contact. He was grateful now that he still wore his shirt.

His skin prickled, the heated air from his AC brushing over drying sweat and come, and making Will remember his surroundings.

“We should clean off,” he whispered, and Hannibal’s sigh sounded like the wind through the trees outside of the little house. His fingers carded through Will’s hair, loosening the sticky curls where they clung to his neck, the touches lingering before Will sat up gingerly. “Come on.”

* * *

When the flashing red and blue lights of the FBI’s vehicles flooded the living room, Will was ready to step outside. He walked onto the porch, dressed and re-bandaged by Hannibal’s tender hands, and he said nothing as the raid team rushed past him into his home, guns raised. His focus was solely on Jack as the older agent walked towards him, his gait relatively steady despite the cane he was using.

“Is he still here?” Jack asked quietly, and Will could not tell from his face or his tone if he could see right through Will’s own stoic expression.

Will opened his mouth, but he was spared from having to lie to his friend or to betray his lover.

“Jack,” Hannibal’s voice rang out. “I’m here.” He approached slowly from where he had been behind the house. Will assumed he had been making use of the shed for warmth as they waited; following their shared shower, and one last desperate, clinging kiss--who knew when they would be able to touch again, or to see one another without glass and bars and interlopers keeping them apart--they had accepted the necessity of separation.

Hannibal’s arms were up as he came towards them, his bare, empty hands raised and ready as the team surged back out of the house and surrounded him. Stopping a few feet in front of Jack, Hannibal sank gracefully to his knees, his gaze cutting once toward WIll before he faced his nemesis. “You’ve finally caught the Chesapeake Ripper, Jack.”

The standing man’s lip curled, either in derision or anger; perhaps in both. “I didn’t catch you. You surrendered,” he returned, his tone level and empty. This was no victory, and Will could see that Jack felt no pride in the achievement.

Hannibal shrugged shallowly, lowering his arms only when one of the SWAT team reached his side. He allowed the man to handcuff his wrists behind his back, and as he spoke, Hannibal’s eyes swept from Jack towards Will, once more. “I want you to know exactly where I am. And where you can always find me,” he said, and there was no doubt in any mind present who Hannibal was actually speaking to.

Jack gestured, and the raid team pulled Hannibal to his feet, turning to begin maneuvering him towards the waiting transport.

As he was loaded into the truck, Hannibal cast one look back over his shoulder, and when his eyes met Will’s the younger man simply nodded, not blinking or looking away until Hannibal was completely out of his sight.

For the time being.

Will thought of his words of farewell in the Norman Chapel tombs, and he smiled faintly. He ignored the way that Jack’s expression tightened as he turned away from Will without another word, clearly seeing the glint of pleasure and intention in his face, and not liking it at all.

  
_ Until next time _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Also I think I'm moving from Alabama to Texas.


End file.
